


Burning His Heart

by TheLadyOfManyFandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Books, Bored Sherlock, Breakfast, Escape, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Kidnapping, Pain, Reading, Shooting Guns, The Science of Deduction, Torture, but also danger, cuddles with sherlock, damn this is going nowhere, future chapters will have blood, gosh i love that meme, i apologise if you came here to read and end up feeling attacked, i heart you all, sherlock is a sucker for you, tried my best to be as descriptive as possible, when needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheLadyOfManyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OMG! THE FREAKING ANNOUNCEMENT! 4 NEW EPS OF SHERLOCK! OH, IT'S CHRISTMAS!</p><p>John’s life is not the only one that’s been put in danger. Your life had constantly been put in danger by Sherlock. But how far will it go when Mr. I Will Survive steals Sherlock’s most prized possession?<br/>“The useless junk that you refer to is also known as food.” You stated smugly not lifting your eyes from the interesting article. Sherlock shook his head,</p><p>“No, it’s junk and I want it out.” he stated. You looked up from your magazine with a retort on the tip of your tongue but stopped short when you saw what was in Sherlock’s hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impressed

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the start of what I’ve been working on. Clearly my mind would write fanfic rather than study for exams :/ Nevertheless, this is what my procrastination has produced!
> 
> I'm not the best writer (I never have been) but I hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
>  
> 
> [I do not own Sherlock or you!]  
> All mistakes are my own so I apologise in advance :)

Sherlock walked in to the living room with a frown,

“(Y/n), move that useless junk from the refrigerator. I’m running out of room.” He ordered. You were seated on his chair, curled up in a warm blanket with a magazine and hot tea. Your (h/c) hair was a slight mess but because you were at home, there was no one to try and impress. 

“The useless junk that you refer to is also known as food.” You stated smugly not lifting your eyes from the interesting article. Sherlock shook his head,

“No, it’s junk and I want it out.” he stated. You looked up from your magazine with a retort on the tip of your tongue but stopped short when you saw what was in Sherlock’s hand,

“Is that a severed arm?” You sighed. Sherlock smirked,

“You’re a genius.” He said with an eye-roll. You glared at his sarcasm,

“Why the hell do you need a severed arm? You already have a head, a foot and a thigh. Are planning to reanimate a corpse Frankenstein?” you asked.

“The reanimation of a corpse is theoretically impossible, especially in the case of Frankenstein. Lightning as electricity would burn out all the organs in a heartbeat and then there’s the situation of a conscious returning which is still in debate about…”

“Sherlock?” You interrupted, “It was a rhetorical question, which means I ask and you don’t answer.” Sherlock stared at you ready to snap again but he was interrupted by his phone ringtone. He reached into his pocket and answered the call,

“Hello Detective Inspector, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked with only sarcasm in his voice. You had a smile on your lips as you imagined Lestrade rolling his eyes on the other side. Sherlock paced around listening to his phone until he suddenly stopped and threw the severed limb towards you. 

Screaming, you pushed the horrifying thing off yourself and jumped up. The arm was well away from you on the ground but you continued to hop around brush your arms. Sherlock watched with amusement and Lestrade grew panicked at the shrieking,

“What was that?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock smiled at the question,

“Oh don’t you worry. That was just (y/n) reacting to a severed arm.” He answered. You stopped shuddering and shot at deadly stare at Sherlock,

“You hurled it at me!” you snapped. Sherlock ignored you and continued to pace around the flat,

“Yes, so what were you saying?” he asked over the phone, “Kidnappings? Nope that’s boring.” You took your teacup and strode over to the kitchen to make yourself some more tea, since it sounded like Sherlock wasn’t taking the case. As you poured in the hot water, Mrs Hudson popped her head through the kitchen door,

“Yoo-hoo.” She chirped, “I heard screaming.” You turned around with a smile,

“That was me. Sorry about that.” You apologised. Mrs Hudson returned the kind smile,

“No need, dear. What happened? Did Sherlock walk in on you while you were getting dressed?” she wondered. Your eyes widened at the thought and quickly shook the image out of your head,

“No,” you replied, not sure how your landlady came to that conclusion, “He threw a severed limb at me.” Mrs Hudson giggled,

“Oh (y/n), it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.” She whispered. You raised an eyebrow,

“No, seriously, Mrs Hudson. It was a detached arm.” You said truthfully but it didn’t seem like the old lady was listening,

“You and Sherlock are young and it only makes sense to spend time with each other when John isn’t around.” she said. You were biting your tongue so hard that you could taste a little bit of blood. You was about to tell Mrs Hudson that she was assuming wrong but Sherlock appeared through from the living room,

“Get dressed we have a case. I’ve already told John to meet us at Scotland Yard.” He instructed. Mrs Hudson patted you on the shoulder and walked over to Sherlock with a smile,

“You should consider getting a doorknob sign.” She laughed and nudged him on the way out. Sherlock turned to you with a puzzled expression on his face as the door closed,

“What does she mean?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulder and shook your head,

“I have no idea.” You smiled and made your way into your room. The moment you closed the bedroom door; you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself about Mrs Hudson’s earlier remark. Tossing aside your knitted sweater and comfortable pants, you quickly dived into your favourite black pants and looked around for your blue top. Looking through the wardrobe, you still couldn’t find it until you remembered where you had last put it. You walked over to the door and propped it open slightly,

“Sherlock, could you be a dear and hand me the blue top that’s hanging on John’s chair?” you asked. You heard a shuffling from the kitchen to the living room,

“The one I dislike?” Sherlock called out. You couldn’t help but smile at his question,

“That’s the one.” You answered cheerfully. Sherlock walked over to your room door and passed the top,

“Will you hurry up? I don’t want Lestrade to think that we’ve been kidnapped on the way.” Sherlock stated. You rolled your eyes while slipping on the, perfectly fitting, top and fixed your hair in a matter of seconds. Opening to door fully, you walked past Sherlock to grab the house keys and your phone,

“Honestly Sherlock, no kidnapper is stupid enough to take you.” You laughed. Spinning around, you grabbed her shoes that were by the door and put them on without further delay. You stood back up, dusted your pants and looked at Sherlock,

“Shall we?” you asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at you,

“I always get the feeling that you’re trying to impress someone whenever we go to Scotland Yard.” He said. You squinted at him with a glimmer in your eyes,

“And I always get the feeling that you’re too stubborn to admit that you’ve been impressed yourself.” You teased and walked out the door. Sherlock followed you down the stairs and onto the street curb. He hailed for a taxi and the two of you sat inside when it arrived,

“Scotland Yard please.” You told the cabbie. Sherlock sighed as he looked out the window,

“I wasn’t impressed.” He stated in denial. You rolled your eyes while taking out your wallet,

“Sherlock, that conversation literally finished ten minutes ago, now can you tell me why you changed your mind on taking up the case?” you requested. Keen on changing the subject, Sherlock showed you his phone,

“Look, there have been kidnappings all over London. 5 young women in their mid-twenties to early thirties have been reported missing. When searching for any sign of intrusion there was none.” He said. You looked at the reports with much interest,

“So they were kidnapped while they were out?” you wondered. Sherlock shrugged his shoulder,

“That’s a possible conclusion that I considered but it’s not the kidnapping that got my interest. It was the marks.” He replied.

“Marks?”

“Marks, yes. Each of the women were killed three days after they were taken. Gordon found the body of the fifth woman this morning with torture marks on her back.” Sherlock explained. 

“It’s Greg and ‘torture wounds’? What are we dealing with, a medieval-serial killing-psychopath?” you asked. Sherlock smirked,

“Perhaps.” He replied and scrolled through his phone. You returned to the contents of your bag and smiled,

“Is there a long-lost cousin that you haven’t been telling me about?” you laughed. Of course, there was nothing funny about the situation but taunting Sherlock was always a good place to start.


	2. Scotland Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You both took your time.” Lestrade said with slight irritation in his voice. Sherlock smiled,
> 
> “And yet you’re eating a donut.” He replied. 
> 
> “I’m not going to miss lunch because of you two.” Lestrade stated and took another bite, "Where's John?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell, I am quite clever at chapter titles ;) Hope you're enjoying as much as I am writing!  
> Thanks for the kudos *tips imaginary hat*
> 
> [I do not own Sherlock or you!]  
> All mistakes are my own so I apologise in advance :)

The cab pulled up to the side of the police station and you paid the driver before leaving. The pair of you walked inside and took the elevator to Lestrade’s level. Donovan was walking out of Lestrade’s office when she met briefly with you and Sherlock,

“Well look who it is? It’s Doctor freak and his companion.” She said. You beamed brightly at your old friend,

“It’s understandable to be jealous Sally. After all, Daleks never won.” You retorted. Donovan scoffed and Sherlock opened the door to the office. You followed him in and closed the door behind.

“You both took your time.” Lestrade said with slight irritation in his voice. Sherlock smiled,

“And yet you’re eating a donut.” He replied. 

“I’m not going to miss lunch because of you two.” Lestrade stated and took another bite, “Where’s John?” Just at that moment, John burst into the office,

“Bloody hell Sherlock, I’m going to kill you!” he growled. You stared at the angry mess of a doctor,

“Why the sudden thirst for Sherlock’s blood?” you asked. John pointed a finger at Sherlock,

“You couldn’t have just sent a bloody text to call me here. Claudia broke up with me because of you!” he shouted. You turned to Sherlock,

“What did you do?” you wondered. Sherlock didn’t see what the fuss was about,

“All I said was that I knew about her affair with the school teacher and that she should break it up before I told John.” He said nonchalantly. John squinted at Sherlock fiercely,

“You knew she was having an affair and you didn’t tell me?” he whispered angrily, “Why?”  
Sherlock took off his gloves and set it on the table,

“She found you boring and it started a few days after you were dating.” He stated. John balled his fists preparing to punch Sherlock and you cleared your throat,

“What about we don’t kill each other and find out who attacked these girls?” you suggested. It took a while, but the tension subdued and they focused on the reason that they were called to Scotland Yard. Lestrade tossed some photographs onto the desk of the women and you picked one up,

“This is disturbing.” You said softly. Lestrade sighed as he sat up,

“I’m afraid it’ll only get worse from here.” He stated and handed John a letter. Unfolding it John read it out loud,

“This was bound to happen, the mask you’ll never see, my next victim lives in 221B.” he said ending with a gasp. There was a different type of tension in the room now and you just couldn’t help yourself,

“This would be a really cute love letter to Sherly - if it wasn’t so murderous.” You quipped but no one was laughing. Sherlock looked at Lestrade,

“Why didn’t you tell me about the letter over the phone?” he asked. Lestrade stood up and walked around the table,

“Well I assumed that you’d panic.” He replied. Sherlock smirked,

“I don’t panic over a riddle.” He said. You gave up on being funny and looked at the letter with John,

“I don’t see how it’s a riddle Sherlock, when the kidnapper just told us where the victim is.” You said slightly confused. John looked at you,

“Actually he stated who it is.” He corrected. You squinted at him and John realised that you weren’t following on,

“It’s you.” He stated. You scoffed and looked at Sherlock and Lestrade,

“Me?” you asked. Lestrade folded his arms,

“I thought you’d fit the bill too, after all you are a woman.” He stated. You scoffed at his nerve for a sexist approach,

“So is Mrs Hudson and Mrs Turner.” You snapped. Sherlock stepped forward,

“Yes but you fit the age bracket.” He reminded. You sighed and placed your hands on your hips,

“Well it’s not like I haven’t had death threats before.” You said coolly. Lestrade stared at you,

“This isn’t like one of those silly death threats. Some maniac has had practice while looking for you.” He said.

“What if he killed them to get Sherlock’s attention?” you asked. John nodded as he thought,

“That would make sense...” He muttered. There was a faint tapping of the keyboard behind them.

“You could have asked Sherlock!” Lestrade groaned. While you had been talking, Sherlock took to Lestrade’s computer with your phone by his side.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on the computer screen,

“Finding the killers pattern – aha!” he exclaimed. 

“What?” John asked eager to know what Sherlock had just found. 

“The last victim’s name was Sandrine Hanson. She had her phone with her and her last text, last call and last email was to her husband.” Sherlock said turning the computer screen, “The first woman   
texted, called and emailed a man she had an affair with – sort of like Claudia –” flashing John a   
glance, “– the second, third and fourth victim all did this to their lovers as well.” Sherlock explained.   
He picked up your phone and smirked while the others digested the information,

“And look at who you called, texted and emailed?” Sherlock asked holding up the phone, “Me.” You took your phone back and looked at him,

“Maybe if you answered my call yesterday, I wouldn’t be the next target.” You snapped. Although you didn’t show it, you were troubled with the thought of being stalked by a killer. 

“So this person is targeting women who call, text and email their lovers?” John asked looking from you to Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. 

“Really, John?” You asked. John shrugged his shoulder,

“Well, isn’t that what Sherlock said?” he wondered in return. Sherlock squinted at John,

“No, he’s targeting women who call, text and email the same person in the last 24 hours.” He re-explained. John shrugged a shoulder,

“Yeah, but my version is more plausible.” He told Sherlock. 

“Shut up John.” Sherlock snapped with a light shade of pink flushing across his face. You caught his blush and grinned at John. Lestrade tapped his nails on the table and sighed,

“Well, now we know how he’s been choosing his targets we can try saving the next one. I’ll have officers stationed in deep cover in and around Baker Street. You’ll be safe with the watchful eye.” He said and turned to you, “Uh, can you call Donovan and Anderson? They won’t be too far.” Lestrade asked. You nodded and walked out of the room. Immediately, Sherlock turned to Lestrade,

“You know that stationing police around the place won’t stop him.” He said. Lestrade nodded and John looked at both of them,

“Why do you say that?” he asked. Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock beat him to it,

“The last victim was a military nurse. She would have had combat training; no ordinary killer could withstand that.” He said. Lestrade noticed you were returning with Donovan and Anderson and coughed loudly,

“We can’t discuss this here.” He said and the door swung open. 

“Here you go King Arthur, peasant 1 and peasant 2.” You chimed walking over to Sherlock and John. Donovan bit her tongue and rolled her eyes while Anderson scoffed,

“Peasants?” he asked loudly. Lestrade stepped over to them,

“Not here.” He warned and Anderson obeyed, “I want you two to bring up every available officer for cover duty and station them around Baker Street.” He instructed.

“Why?” Anderson asked curiously,

“Because someone’s life is at stake.” Lestrade answered. Donovan smirked,

“With all due respect sir, but if someone wants to make an attempt on Sherlock’s life, I think they should have a fair chance.” She said. Lestrade looked at her,

“It’s not Sherlock who’s in danger, it’s (y/n).” he informed. 

“I still stand by what I said.” Donovan retorted. You glared at Donovan,

“You know I can knock you out and post you to the killer right?” you grinned. Lestrade groaned at the bickering,

“Alright enough!” he said loudly and looked at his officers, “You two do not choose who we protect and you,” and pointed at you, “Don’t make me regret saving you.” Donovan and Anderson scurried off and completed their tasks while you, Sherlock and John made your way back home safely. Although you didn’t discuss the case any further – it was still a nagging thought in your mind.


	3. Read To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do want me to do?” he asked with a shrug and little care. You looked around and was drawn to the bookshelf,
> 
> “Could you read something to me?” you wondered. Sherlock squinted at you with a chuckle,
> 
> “You want me to read you a book? What are you, 5 years old?” he scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you are still enjoying these! Smiles all 'round :D There's more Sherlock on the way to being written up.

Later that night, Sherlock got out of his bed and walked to the kitchen. The severed arm, he was playing around with earlier, had been used in an experiment in the kitchen. You was most likely asleep, so Sherlock made no attempt to keep the noise to a minimum. He messed around with some thermometers and timers and then picked up a beaker that had a clear green liquid.

“What are you doing up?” Sherlock asked as he looked through his beaker and then at you, when he realised that you were sitting up on the living room couch.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You said softly, your voice mimicking the weariness of your eyes. Sherlock stared at you for a moment and realised that he didn’t know how to comfort you.

“What do want me to do?” he asked with a shrug and little care. You looked around and was drawn to the bookshelf,

“Could you read something to me?” you wondered. Sherlock squinted at you with a chuckle,

“You want me to read you a book? What are you, 5 years old?” he scoffed. You frowned at him,

“If you don’t want to help then just say no.” you snapped angrily. There was already too much on your mind to challenge Sherlock’s sarcasm. Sherlock had gone silent as he watched you fuss furiously with the pillows. Setting down his beaker, Sherlock returned to his room and shut the door. For some strange reason, he felt slightly bad for denying your request. 

The next morning John woke up to the smell of free toast, eggs and coffee. He got dressed and expected to see you working away in the kitchen.

“That smells delicious.” He complimented but stopped short upon arrival. His smile turned into an expression of shock when he saw Sherlock Holmes cooking breakfast.

“Hello John. I made you your favourite. It’s such a complicated dish – I haven’t the faintest idea how (y/n) manages without a recipe book.” Sherlock said cheerfully. John looked out into the living room and saw that it was empty,

“Where’s (y/n)?” he asked pointing to the deserted sofa.

“Oh, her? She slept at Mrs Hudson’s last night.” He informed as he flipped the egg. John squinted at Sherlock with suspicion,

“Why?” he asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he plated up the eggs,

“She said I was narcissistic prick, I think because I didn’t read her to sleep.” He explained with annoyance. John folded his arms with amusement,

“She asked you to read to her?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

“And you said no?” John wondered. Sherlock glared at John,

“Didn’t we just go through that?” he snapped. John scoffed at Sherlock,

“Bloody hell, why can’t you ever do what she says?” he wondered aloud. Sherlock pointed to the table,

“I am! She threw me the saucepan and said to make breakfast for you. I don’t see why this book reading nonsense is such a big deal.” He stated. John’s expression had become stern suddenly,

“Sherlock, if all this goes pear-shaped, (y/n) will be dead by the end of the week.” John reminded. 

“Which won’t happen because I’ve planned it all out.” Sherlock muttered. John was now glowing with fury at Sherlock’s overconfidence,

“No, it’s more likely to happen now that she’s taken to sleeping downstairs!” he snapped. 

 

*-.-*-.-*Time-skip to following night*-.-*-.-*

 

Sherlock woke up at 11:45pm to check on his experiment and heard a shuffling coming from the living room. You were awake again and pacing the floor anxiously.

“Can’t sleep again?” Sherlock asked. You turned around at the sound of his voice and sighed,

“You know the answer to that.” You replied. Sherlock walked across the living room and picked a book off the case. He quietly walked to the sofa and sat down,

“Here, take a seat.” He invited. You stared at him with utmost confusion and Sherlock observed the reaction,

“The results aren’t ready just yet.” He said looking over at the kitchen. You slowly walked over and sat beside him,

“Is that Jules Verne?” you asked recognising the cover. Sherlock nodded,

“Yes, John suggested that you’d like it.” he said. You smiled as you pulled your feet onto the couch,

“I won’t argue with that.” You smiled. Sherlock and you sat side-by-side for the next hour reading. Actually, Sherlock was the only reading while you listened on. It was hard to explain what had followed that hour because when Sherlock opened his eyes hazily it to the sound of a buzz. His phone had been going off for the past ten minutes it seemed and the book lay sprawled on the ground. Sherlock had fallen asleep while reading and completely forgot about his experiment. 

Switching off the phone’s alarm, Sherlock tried to get up only realising that he couldn’t.   
Looking to his side, Sherlock saw that you were fast asleep on his shoulder. You right hand firmly clutching his shirt and your left holding Sherlock’s right hand, just by your waist. Judging by the ease at which you breathed, Sherlock deduced that you felt safe. He glanced towards the kitchen, desperate to see the results, but didn’t want to wake you from your sleep. Sighing, Sherlock decided to stay where he was. He would just have to imagine the result observation.


	4. Compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next part to this tale of you and that intoxicating consulting detective! I do hope you are liking it. Feedback is always encouraged :)
> 
> Keep bearing those smiles!

The next few days were pretty simple: Lestrade stopped calling to check on you, Sherlock started on this third experiment and John had a new girlfriend. What was more amazing was that Sherlock had even begun reading you to sleep on extreme occasions. Of course, you suspected that it was to prove a point to John but admired his efforts nonetheless. 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning but, as usual, you were cooped inside your flat with a grumpy detective while John was out for breakfast with his new lady friend. Lestrade was still hesitant to let you out and about with the killer on the loose, even though it had been over a week with no attempt on your life. You sat on the sofa with your laptop comfortably resting on both knees and Sherlock was seated on his armchair with his legs hanging over the edge and a revolver in his hand. John returned to Baker Street to the sound of familiar gunshots that morning,

“You do realise that you’ll wake the neighbours?” he asked as he opened the door. Sherlock sighed and hit the wall again,

“I’m bored John!” he grumbled. John took off his jacket and looked at you furiously typing away,

“You’re up early today.” He noted with a smile. You looked up briefly at your friend,

“You would be too if a sociopath walked into the living room and tried to blast the wall apart.” You answered. John smiled and turned to Sherlock,

“Any progress on the case?” he wondered. Sherlock fired two more rounds,

“The case has gone cold. Even (y/n) hasn’t been kidnapped, at least that would have been fun to solve.” He muttered. You rolled your eyes from behind the computer screen,

“Your compassion is overwhelming.” You said sarcastically. John took the gun from Sherlock and placed it on the mantelpiece,

“Why don’t you find something else to do?” he suggested. Sherlock pursed his lips as he thought,

“Cluedo?” he wondered. You and John glared at him at the same time,

“No!” you both warned. Sherlock groaned and slumped further into his chair while John left to have his shower. The only noise that was heard, apart from Mrs Hudson’s humming downstairs, was the tapping of the laptop keys. Sherlock looked over to you and saw that you were in deep concentration,

“What are you doing?” he asked with barely any interest. You didn’t look up at him and smiled,

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” You replied. There was a small chime that came from Sherlock’s pocket; it was a text alert. Sherlock reluctantly pulled the phone out and looked at the message with a deep sigh. It was from Mycroft.

Your blog has been compromised, brother dear. Again. MH

The message read. Sherlock’s eyes immediately shot up to where you were sitting with a twisted smile on your lips. He stood up and strode towards you (you hadn’t noticed his movement because of your interest in your work). Instantly, he stole the small computer and looked at what you were up to. 

‘I love my brother, Mycroft Holmes, with all my consulting detective heart’ – was written all over his ‘Science of Deduction’ webpage. Sherlock frowned and looked at you,

“What’s this?” he asked. You yawned and stretched your arms as you got up,

“I thought it was a big improvement.” You answered with a grin. Sherlock put the laptop down and John returned with a change of clothes,

“Sherlock, did you tell Greg that you were letting go of the kidnapping case?” he wondered as he took a seat in his chair. Sherlock turned away from you and nodded,

“Yes, he didn’t sound too happy.” He replied. Your eyes brightened and you lunged for the phone that was on the sofa pillow. You dialled a number and rushed down the stairs while talking,

“You know exactly what I’m going to say.” You said to the person over the phone. You voice disappeared as the door closed behind you and John looked at Sherlock with a puzzled expression,

“What was that about?” he asked. Sherlock walked over to the windowsill and picked up his violin,

“She’s asking for permission to go out.” he said, “Scotland Yard is most likely to say no though.”


	5. He's Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, peeps! Let's play Cluedo! I've never played that game and I doubt that Sherlock would be a suitable player.

Lestrade walked into 221B, without so much of a warning, and laughed in annoyance,

“Alright, you’ve got me. I keep calling to check if you’re fine and now you’re ignoring me. Well played (y/n).” he said as his voice echoed down the stairs. John squinted at Lestrade,

“Greg, are you okay?” he asked. Lestrade scoffed,

“Oh, don’t play along with her. I know what she’s trying to do.” He stated. Sherlock walked in, from the kitchen, with fresh kidneys,

“Gavin, can you tell (y/n) to get me fish and chips when she’s done?” he requested. 

“When she’s done?” Lestrade repeated with confusion, “Done what? She didn’t even show up when I said it was urgent.” He snapped. John froze and set his cup down,

“(Y/n) said she was going to your office when she got your text.” He said.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if she showed up.” Lestrade replied. Sherlock stared at Lestrade and but spoke to John,

“John, the messages that you identified as a chain virus – open it.” he instructed. John grabbed Sherlock’s phone and opened the message,

“Oh my god.” He whispered, staring blankly at the screen. Sherlock took the phone from John’s unresponsive hands and sighed,

“We were too quick to judge.” He stated. Lestrade walked over and read the message:

Never jump to conclusions – JM

“JM? That’s the killer?” Lestrade asked. John shook his head in utter disbelief,

“Moriarty…why didn’t we think of him?” he asked, furious with himself for missing it. Sherlock spun the phone in his hand as he walked around the room in deep thought,

“Because we didn’t expect him to resurface so quickly.” He answered.

“He killed the women?” Lestrade wondered with astonishment. 

“No, he’s too clever to do the dirty work. I bet on an expert assassin.” Sherlock replied with a smirk. John noticed the twisted smile,

“You know that this isn’t the slightest bit amusing?” he asked coldly.

“Isn’t it?” Sherlock replied and John stood up,

“No. (Y/n) is out there in the hands of some maniac with torture equipment.” He snapped. 

“It’s (y/n), she can handle herself John.” Sherlock defended. John was beyond tempted to punch Sherlock for being so oblivious. If a woman with expert military training couldn’t do anything then what chance did an amateur detective have? There was a sudden buzzing that came from Sherlock’s phone. The caller ID was ‘UNKNOWN’ but Sherlock knew that it could only be one person,

“Hello?” Sherlock answered.

“Did you miss me Sherlock? Admit it, you did.” Moriarty said playfully. 

“And why would I do that?” Sherlock asked. There was a cold chuckle from the phone,

“If you didn’t miss me then you’ll soon miss the emptiness of one voice in your flat.” Moriaty replied and cleared his throat, “You might want to put this on speaker.” Sherlock set the phone in the middle so John and Lestrade could hear what was happening. Moriarty’s footsteps echoed through a basement tunnel and were soon replaced by screaming. Unmistakably, your painful screams. There was a crackle of electricity and another high-pitched cry.

“See what I mean?” Moriaty asked. John tried to wrestle the phone out of Sherlock’s hand,

“Why you –?!” he roared, blurting out several curses at the top of his voice. 

“Johnny boy, is that you?” 

“I will kill you if something happens to her!” John shouted. Moriarty sighed,

“But I’m not doing anything, isn’t that right Sherlock?” he said – Sherlock rolled his eyes – and   
smiled,

“You should see the blood…it’s such a mess.” He said pitifully. Moriarty then changed his tone to one of coldness,

“Here’s your new case Sherlock. Find her or her body will find you in three days.” He challenged. There was a silence and then Moriaty chuckled,

“Here’s some encouragement.” He said and his voice was replaced with a raspy one,

“Sherlock…” you whispered. There was an electrical buzz, a chilling scream and then the phone line went dead. Sherlock was holding his breath and didn’t even notice John loading his gun until he heard him shoot once at the wall.

“What are you doing?” Lestrade asked. John was beyond determined and looked at him,

“We go and find her now.” He said and turned to Sherlock,

“Do what you do and find her Sherlock.” He instructed. Sherlock scoffed at him,

“I don’t know where to start John. Moriarty could have her anywhere in any underground basement.” He said. Why did John think it was so simple? Sherlock wondered. John sighed and paced around impatiently while Lestrade called for backup. Sherlock sat on his armchair and began to narrow down the possibilities.


	6. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kudos is amazing and I thank you all for reading this far :D  
> I feel special <3
> 
> Keep shining brightly my fellow comrades!

The man in charge of your pain had cold grey eyes – his only distinctive quality. He took joy in beating you senseless and then having your body repaired only to repeat the process. You never saw Moriarty up close after he teased you with Sherlock’s call. He would always stand afar and watch for a few minutes before leaving. Your kidnapper pulled your head back ruthlessly and spoke into your ear,

“I was ordered not to kill you.” He whispered and your heart lifted slightly, “But I’m going to break you bone-by-bone so you’ll beg for death by the end.” He added more sinisterly. There it was, you thought, the icing on the cake. You weren’t even sure how you were make feeble jokes at this time.

“What do you think?” the man asked. You refused to answer and, as punishment, were hit with a white-hot rod on your back. Your head snapped up forcefully and you were fighting back tears while biting your lower lip.

The pain spread through your body and you felt your legs failing. There was a second blow and you screamed out helplessly. With that one moment of weakness, there were several beatings that followed - each, forcing the air out of your lungs until he had you coughing up blood from your dry throat. 

Your legs couldn’t withstand anymore and the only thing holding you up were the chains cuffed around your wrists and fastened to the ceiling. You could feel the warm blood trickling down your back from where the electricity broke your skin and heard it drip into the slowly-growing pool below. The thought of bleeding to death made you feel sick and the taste in your mouth did nothing to help. The man walked in front with a proud smile twisted on his lips,

“I said, what do you think?” he repeated. 

You felt a sufficient amount of blood in your mouth and, without a second thought, spat in the man’s face. He roared angrily and back-handed you across the face causing you to pass out. A bit unnecessary really, since your mind was going to give out anyway. 

You woke up in a different room and were not chained to the roof even though you were still shackled. You were not idle to spend your recovery time healing. You had begun to plan an escape in order to return to humanity. 

The main problem was obtaining a set of keys to free the iron cuffs. It had only been just over a day and you had fallen unconscious at least 3 times now. The shackles had cut into your wrists and you knew that they were going to leave scars, not that that was the biggest concern. 

There was a stern looking woman who tended to your wounds. She wasn’t friendly in the slightest and always grumbled when she fixed you up. You noticed that the woman had a set of keys strapped to her waist and could only wonder if it would release your restraints. 

You, unfortunately, couldn’t plan any further because your thoughts were interrupted by a stinging sensation on your skin. The wound you received were doused in water and you arched your back in pain. The feeling was like being set on fire and strangely soothing at the same time. You were then patted dry and a cold cream was applied over the wound. It eased the pain and had you slowly falling asleep. 

The next time you awoke, you felt yourself hit the ground. Opening your eyes, everything was hazy and your whole body ached from the sudden contact. You didn’t know when you slept or for how long but none of that mattered when you heard the familiar electrical crackle behind you and agony course through your bones. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you did not expect to be attacked so soon. Your body hadn’t healed properly and could feel the previous wounds reopen. 

The grey-eyed kidnapper was hell bent on torturing you to insanity and you feared that he was succeeding. Unable to muster enough strength to move from the ground, the electric rod slammed into you several times in a row. 

You had reached breaking point – you were no longer able to scream and were reduced to crying and clawing your nails into the ground. Time had been lost. You were beaten until you collapsed again. 

Wake up. Medical cream. Fall asleep. Torture. 

That was the process that you were put through. Sometimes in the medical chamber and sometimes chained to roof. There was a definite pattern but your mind could not function with the pain you felt. Despite being unable to think properly, you continued to wonder how much it would take to finally kill you and suddenly all of your thoughts were drawn to Sherlock. You had not thought of him for what felt like a long time. Surely he would be out looking for you but what did he have to go on?


	7. A Sweet Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take this and my Sherlock and Johnlock feels! Seriously. I don't want them. They ruin lives. Hehe, and thank you all for the kudos *tips imaginary hat* They mean a great deal to me ^.^
> 
> Oh! When you read this chapter, just imagine some sort of dramatic music is playing in the background. :)

You felt the shockingly cold water on your back and jumped up suddenly. You didn’t even remember returning to the medical bay but it was now no surprise to you. The woman looked at you with much intrigue at the fact that you were still alive but made no attempt to voice it. You watched as the woman picked up the bottle of cream and started towards you,

“This is last treatment that you’ll get.” The woman said. You squinted trying to process the words but when you opened your mouth to question the woman – no sound came out. You couldn’t find a voice from all of the screaming that you were forced to do. The woman noticed this and answered your quizzical look,

“He will kill you by the end of the day.” She explained. Your heart leapt into your throat and sheer panic flooded through your mind. 

Three days.

Three days is what Sherlock was given. And those three days had nearly ended with a no-show from the detective, most likely because Moriaty was messing with false leads. If you were ever to get out alive, you couldn’t rely on a rescue party. You had a plan in mind but it would most certainly end in failure: obtain a key, remove shackles, find a door and get to Baker Street. Now that you ran it again in your head, the plan was beyond pathetic. _What choice do I have? _You asked yourself.__

__The woman ignored your silence and began to uncap the tube of cream only to feel a sudden blow on the side of her face. When the woman’s body hit the ground unconsciously, you looked at the limp figure apologetically. No matter who she was working for, the woman did assist in soothing the pain for a little while._ _

__You stooped down and picked up the keys with shaking hands. It took longer than you previously thought to find a key that fit through the keyhole and you began to scare yourself into thinking that there was no such key._ _

__Miraculously, a copper key fit!_ _

__There was a soft clink and the shackles fell to the ground. You had never felt so relieved to have those blasted things off. You held the keys tightly, so they wouldn’t make noise, and crept to the door. Opening it slightly, you checked to see if there were any guards and your heart lifted when it was empty._ _

__You stepped out into the cold corridor and, ignoring the pain you were in, hunted for an exit. The basement that you were held in was an endless path of corridors. You calculated at least 7 minutes before someone found the woman unconscious in the medical bay. Moving your way forward, you thought of what Sherlock had told you and John about finding secret exits:_ _

__“Windows. If you find a window you’ll see where you are.” You remembered Sherlock saying. You looked around desperately for a source of light. There was none. You then tried thinking back to the end of Sherlock’s sentence when John asked if there were no windows:_ _

__“If you find yourself with no view of outside, use your senses. Stand still and take one big sniff of the air. Focus on it and you’ll find that one side is fouler than the other, in which case, follow the less stronger scent.” Sherlock had answered John. You closed your eyes and stood completely still. You could hear your heart thumping against your chest and tried to ignore the sound._ _

__You inhaled deeply and paused._ _

__At first the whole smell of the basement was thick with water vapour but then you noticed that there was a hint of a chill to the left. Opening your eyes, you turned to the left and stared at the empty corridor. Regardless of which path you took, you knew that your chances of surviving were slim._ _

__You bolted towards the left corridor and felt the chill in the air become stronger. The muscles in your legs began to sting and you could tell that you were travelling uphill. The corridor ahead grew darker (not that there was much light to being with) and you felt panic swell in your chest. _Please do not be a dead end _, you pleaded in your head while placing your hands in front of to make sure that there were no obstacles in front. For a few seconds, there was nothing until you crashed into a brick wall.___ _

____A brick wall!_ _ _ _

____You slammed your fists in frustration as if you had enough power to break it down and escape. It was no use and your hands now throbbed painfully. You looked around and realised that you were encased in darkness. You stood still and tried to breathe in again, but this time, you weren’t able to focus on the scent of the basement; your heart was pounding too loud in her ears._ _ _ _

____There was a sudden draft that brushed against your right arm. You flinched at the feeling and then realised what a cool draft meant. Laying your hands on the brick wall, you used it as a guide to the right corridor wall. You felt a few bricks and then a solid metal plate touched your bruised palm. There was shiver that ran up your spine as you felt for a doorknob._ _ _ _

____There! Just to the right by your waist sat a handle. You clenched your hand around it and closed your eyes as you twisted it – begging that it was unlocked. There was a _clink _and the door moved slightly. It was very heavy. You didn’t know if it was genuinely the weight of the door or if you had grown so weak in three days that you couldn’t open a simple door.___ _ _ _

______Shaking the thought away, you used all the strength you had and pushed the door outwards. The sun glowed and a crisp wind bit your exposed skin. The smell of sweet grass almost made you throw up again but you forced yourself to move forward. Thankfully, the grass was soft as it was sweet smelling. It comforted your aching feet as you hurried across the plain._ _ _ _ _ _

______Baker Street. That was all you thought of. It was now a mission to get back to your home. The sofa was your bed and you were deprived of its softness for too long. But it seemed that there was something else at play: Baker Street – it seemed – had found you._ _ _ _ _ _

______There, in the distance stood three men; the tallest one with a black coat, the shortest with a light brown jacket, which meant that the third had to be Lestrade. Lestrade spoke into a walkie talkie and suddenly tyres screeched and sirens wailed through the air. There was a whole squad of police that swarmed the premises and helicopters that flew above. You paid no heed to the commotion around and found yourself staggering towards your friends._ _ _ _ _ _

______John, Sherlock and Lestrade sprinted forward at the sight of you with relief swimming in their eyes. They were elated to see you again but, at the same time, were horrified at how tormented you were. You stood in front of them and stared at each of the men – as if making sure your eyes were not deceiving you._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you alright?” Lestrade wondered. John gave a kind smile and curt nod,_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t be a stranger, we’re all really here.” He told you. You were too ecstatic for words and couldn’t even bring yourself to cry in joy. Instead, you responded with a weak half-smile and took a step forward. But when you did, you lost control of your aching muscles and toppled over. Sherlock jumped forward, almost as if he had expected it, and caught you in his arms,_ _ _ _ _ _

______“(Y/n)?” he whispered while lowering the both of you to the ground. You winced as his arm pressed against your back and gave an exasperated gasp. Sherlock noticed and looked at his hand only to find blood._ _ _ _ _ _

______“John? John! She’s hurt.” Sherlock called. John knelt beside the two of you and frowned,_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can see that.” He said grimly looking at your back, “She needs medical assistance.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lestrade immediately took his phone from his pocket and made several calls. You could tell that your were bleeding to unconsciousness and watched Sherlock quietly as he spoke,_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey…” he whispered, “(Y/n), stay with me. You’re safe now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You felt your eyelids closing and heard the concern in Sherlock’s voice grow louder. Eventually his voice faded above you and you passed out again – but this time, you knew that you were safe._ _ _ _ _ _


	8. Only Just Begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long to post up! And I think that for now...this might be it. But I may consider a part 2 to this, so leave a comment on where you think this could go (I'd be very interested on your thoughts!)

You were taken to St. Barts immediately after passing out with Sherlock and John in hot pursuit. Lestrade informed the two that they found the grey-eyed kidnapper, a nurse and several unarmed snipers in the building. Moriarty, however, was unaccounted for. 

You inhaled clean oxygen and felt the mask around your mouth. You could feel the warm sun hitting the back of your eyelids. Slowly, you opened them looked up at the ceiling. You were definitely at Bart’s Hospital. There was a clock on the wall which read, 8:45am. 

You found that you were in your own comfortable clothes and examined what you were wearing. A black cropped tank top and quartered pants. Clearly, it must have been brought to the hospital in a rush which is why it was such an odd combination. Hanging by the foot of the bed was a transparent white top, which you never found a use for until now. 

Resting your head back on the pillow, you tried to remember how things played out when Sherlock and John found you but it didn’t quite piece together properly. Thinking too much caused your head to ache and you lifted your right hand to rub your temple and pull off the oxygen mask. 

It was then that you noticed your left hand was encased in another hand. Looking down, you saw Sherlock’s head laying on the soft sheets of your bed. His right hand rested gently above yours and he snored very lightly; clearly exhausted. You couldn’t help but smile at his innocent face. 

“I didn’t think I’d see that again.” A voice said by the door. You turned sharply and relaxed when you saw John with a nurse walking over,

“I need to take some blood for further tests.” The nurse said quietly. You looked at her and then at John who elaborated,

“Sherlock refused the doctors from taking it. He’s insistent that you’re not deprived of anymore blood from what you’ve already lost.” He explained. You gave a small nod and allowed for the nurse to do her job but the moment you saw the needle rise, your eyes widened and heart raced. John turned to the nurse and shook his head,

“She’s not ready for this.” He said softly. The nurse glanced at you and then nodded at John. As she left, John walked closer to you with a smile. He patted your head gently and looked at Sherlock,

“I’ll come see you after he’s done.” he told you. You smiled at John and wanted to thank him but you were still having a hard time producing words. John didn’t press you to talk and with one final grin, he left. You sighed and turned back to watch Sherlock sleep. It was calming to see him so vulnerable. 

You pulled your hand from his grip stealthily and ran your fingers through his dark curls. This was your attempt to wake him kindly as opposed to your usual antics. Sherlock flinched slightly and then blinked dozily. He saw your (e/c) eyes watching him and he sat up suddenly,

“You’re awake?” he wondered and looked at the clock, “For how long?” 

You followed his gaze to the clock and opened your mouth to say ‘not long ago’ but frowned when you couldn’t. Closing your mouth, you looked back at Sherlock; his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

“What’s wrong?” he asked trying to find the answer to his question. You looked at the blankets that covered your body and shook your head. Your eyes were pooling tears again and you did not want to have an emotional breakdown with Sherlock. 

“Psychosomatic speech impairment.” Sherlock stated and you looked up at him with a squint, 

“You’re not talking because you fear that you’re going to cough up blood.” He added. How did Sherlock know about that? You wondered and, as if he could read your mind, Sherlock answered that too,

“I went down to that basement with John and Gerry. Some of the blood that was found had a mixture of saliva which only meant that you were screaming until your throat was dry and --”  
Sherlock noticed that you had become agitated at the memory of what he described and stopped immediately. He took your hand gently and moved closer,

“(Y/n), you are not going to bleed when you speak. You have been recovering faster than I could have guessed.” He encouraged, “Which means that I owe John 50 quid.” He added with a soft chuckle. You smiled weakly and Sherlock sighed softly,

“Can you please say something? Anything?” he wondered. You stayed quiet and, judging by the dilation of your pupils, Sherlock knew that you were sorry. 

“Just say my name at least.” Sherlock requested, “The last time I heard it was three days ago.” You sighed and attempted to say Sherlock’s name but to no avail. You saw the disappointment in Sherlock’s face and felt a sudden jab in your right arm. 

“Sherlock!” You shouted unintentionally and dug your nails in his palm. 

While you were solely focused on Sherlock’s requests, a nurse came in to take a blood sample. The nurse was quick in her task and left as soon as she was done. You gasped and looked at Sherlock who was grinning at you,

“See?” he asked to prove his point. Sherlock stood up and pressed his lips gently on yours, “You’re fine.” You sighed and then gave him a smile,

“I hate you.” You whispered and kissed him back. 

“Typical!” someone exclaimed by the door. You and Sherlock turned around to see Greg and John watching them. John had a smirk but Lestrade was almost in shock,

“Christ, Sherlock, I told you to talk it out not kiss it out.” he complained. Sherlock looked at you and kissed your forehead,

“She deserves it.” he said softly. He stepped back from the bed and grabbed his coat.

“Where are you going?” John asked. Sherlock fixed his scarf and looked at the doctor,

“Back home. There are some things I need to take care of first.” he explained and dashed towards the door,

“I’ll be back.” he winked to you and then disappeared. Lestrade pulled up a chair and sat beside you,

“Now that Sherlock’s ‘fixed’ your little speech impairment, the first thing I have to say is: I told you so.” He said. You squinted at him,

“What for?” you asked, feeling relieved when you spoke.

“For not giving up on the case of your killer stalker.” Lestrade answered. John smiled at you,

“He was worried.” He said.

“I was not worried!” Lestrade denied furiously. You raised an eyebrow and Lestrade cleared his throat,

“Okay, I was slightly worried.” He admitted. John handed you some water and sat on the edge of your bed,

“So, (Y/n), what happened? How did you end up on the outskirts of Doncaster?” he asked. 

 

*-.-*-.-* TIME SKIP to Sherlock outside of Bart’s *-.-*-.-*

Fish and chips. That’s what always cheered you after a case. And that is what Sherlock decided to bring back as a treat. Hailing for a taxi, Sherlock narrowed down the possibilities of the best shop to buy from. A taxi pulled up to the curb and Sherlock felt his phone buzz inside his coat. Taking it out, Sherlock felt a lump in his throat when he read the text on the device: 

The burning hasn’t even started. - JM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the kudos and for sticking by and reading this story :D  
> You are all awesome! *tips imaginary hat*


End file.
